Of hospitals beds and church pews...

   In a few days, I am taking off to Portland to be with my family as my daddy donates one of his kidneys to my aunt, who has been sick with kidney disease for over five years now.  Undoubtedly, I will be spending the majority of my time in the hospital- a place commonly associated with death, illness, and sadness.  While I can identify with the negativity surrounding hospitals and while they have hosted countless upsetting and impromptu family reunions within my lifetime, I can’t help but acknowledge that I am excited to spend some time in a hospital. Now, let me explain before you diagnose this confession as completely absurd and slightly creepy.  I find the atmosphere within these underappreciated facilities to be unlike any other - a haven of realness, rest, and reflection.  A hospital is a place of raw emotion; what’s left in the strainer of life after a hard rinsing.  While technology and doctors combine to reveal one’s state of health, the gravity of the situations which are a constant in hospitals serve as an x-ray for the soul, exposing the innermost thoughts and emotions of its patients.  Amidst all the chaos filling floor after floor of scrambling staff, ailing patients, and distraught family and friends, time seems to slow down and priorities begin to surface.  When I step into a hospital elevator, I can feel the grief weighing down on me.  And yet, when I walk through the long corridors on each floor, I can almost hear hope echoing off the walls.  Such rawness penetrates through walled up relationships and hidden agendas, affairs, and addictions.  So much is brought to light by means of sickness.  There is something so right about the recognition of our fragile state and the admission that we need help which is found in a hospital and which is lacking in our churches.

                As a disclaimer before I make these comparisons between church and hospital, I must say that I am indebted to every church I have every actively attended and I consider myself exceedingly blessed to have been challenged and comforted my whole life by my pastors and congregation.  Nevertheless, there is something deeply wrong when I am surrounded by a deluge of tears in the hospital while the parishioner sitting next to me on Sunday dams in the emotions they fear will stain their façade.  Why is it that when we cross paths with someone in a hospital and ask how they are, we expect to hear the diagnosis or dilemma, but the same question in church is rarely met with more than a one-word response?  Why is it that more souls are laid bare beside the stretcher than at the altar?  I believe that God chooses a desperate and humble cry over a smiling face and Sunday best any day. Church was not intended to be a gathering for the righteous, but a hospital for the sick.  I’ll never forget what my pastor once said in response to those who accuse Christians of using God as a crutch: “Yeah, God is my crutch… and my stretcher… and my hospital…  and my doctor!”  We’ve all heard Matthew 9:12, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.”  And yet, we have successfully fooled not only ourselves but the world around us into thinking that church is a place where the upright congregate and sinners steer clear of.  We are a people in a desperate state of urgency for a Savior.  If our churches don’t reflect that urgency, how will everyone looking from the outside in know that God is the answer to their needs as well?

Because He Said So

The second I hit “post”, I will have conquered one of my greatest fears.  You see, I love to write.  I am going to school to be a Journalist.  One of my aspirations is to write a book… And yet, ironically, I am scared to death to share my writing. If I had it my way, it would be kept strictly to the confines of my journals. I can’t exactly explain why I’m so hesitant for other people to see it.  Perhaps, it has to do with the fact that I’m a perfectionist in this specific area and it is never good enough in my eyes.  Perhaps, it is that I feel I have nothing important to write about.  Or perhaps, it is that I fear how others will receive it. I don’t consider myself to be an insecure person, but for someone who regularly gets told that “before I got to know you, I thought you were stuck up” or “my first impression was that you weren’t very friendly”- I strived to live up to the only first impression I have left to offer.  And I had to give that up.  Why? Simply, because God said so.

I guess I was waiting for something monumental to take place in my life in order to write.  It was always, “Well, when I go to Africa… or when I have a career… or when I have a family… then I will have something important to write about.”  But that line of thinking derived from the misconception that my life’s importance revolves around what I do, where I go, and who I am.  That’s a whole lot of “I’s”! In reality, Christ is my worth and wherever I am in life- take for example, living with my parents and working at a coffee shop while attending community college- I can continue to learn and have the adventure of a lifetime as long as I am in the will of God.  Whatever I write is to be a testimony of His goodness, not mine.

      These past six months or so, God has been teaching me to embrace the unknown. No matter how elementary the principle, I need continually reminded that we walk by faith, not by sight.  I don’t know, maybe that’s why the Bible says, “Your Word is a lamp to my feet”: because often times, we can’t see more than one step ahead of where we’re at.  It is so like my God to ask me to jump off a cliff, only to provide wings after I’ve taken the leap.  I don’t know why He wants me to write or what He wants me to write about, but if He tells me to write, gosh darn it, I better write.  Not because I will be punished if I don’t, but because I will be blessed if I do.  So when He says, “Randi, get over yourself and write already”- in the kindest way possible, of course- I have to trust that even if not a single person reads or benefits from my ramblings, He knows best and will bless my obedience.